


Far Away

by ewinofthelake



Series: The Deadly Duo in Time [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: & something more because obviously Mr & Mrs No One can't keep their hands off each other, Braavos, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragons, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Future Fic, Love Confessions, Mentions of canon-typical violence, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 08, The House of Black and White, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 02:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewinofthelake/pseuds/ewinofthelake
Summary: Post season 8.The war between the Living and the Dead is over, and Arya Stark finally goes home.





	Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> Wishful thinking before the madness begins.
> 
> This is not related to [Assassins in Winterfell](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1233815) of course; I'm temporarily parking it in the Deadly Duo series (it is after all a meeting of sorts in a certain time period, which is not the present, for a few more weeks anyway!) but I'll probably move it, should I come up with more s8-related stuff.
> 
> English is not my first language and I have no beta.  
> ASoIaF characters belong to George R. R. Martin.  
> The [poisons room](https://www.kbelshaw.com/projects/aDel9) in season 6.

 

 

~ j ~ a ~ q ~ e ~ n ~

The sensual scent of the spices from the Summer Islands surrounded Jaqen as he decanted the crimson coloured infusion into the glass flasks he had accurately placed on the table in front of him. His sister would not have approved the use of such large containers, but there had to be reasons why she was no longer part of the House of Black and White after all.

_Valar Morghulis._

As he poured the last drop of the liquid, the door of the poisons room sprang open, and one of the younger brothers barged in.

Jaqen merely raised his eyes to acknowledge him.

"Just tell me again, brother, how many ladies has the grand Jaqen H'ghar bedded in Harrenhal?"

At Jaqen's bewildered expression, his brother continued.

"How many years have passed? And still they come at the House's door looking for him."

A vision of ivory skin and ebony hair flashed in Jaqen's mind, and the flask he was holding crashed to the floor. "Where is she?"

This time, it was his brother who wore a bewildered expression.

"Where. Is. She?" With each word, Jaqen took a step in his brother's direction.

"I turned her down, obviously," the brother grumbled as he reached up and grabbed a jar from one of the top shelves. "Despite the recent happenings across the Narrow Sea, the House is not a shelter for runaways..."

But Jaqen was already out of the door.

He was busy running after the only person who could still be calling him by that name.

He was busy running after his lovely girl.

He hadn't seen her since the day she killed his sister and became No One. _A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I'm going home._

Over the following moons, he had realised that something was missing. Something important, he guessed, because although he was used to deal with death, he had never felt dead inside. Whatever it was, she took it away with her when she left.

How he wished he could have kept her with him – kept her at the House, under the pretense of training, of course. But she had duties, and who was he to make her stay? Jaqen H'ghar was no one to her.

Now the war between the Living and the Dead was over, and she must have come back to Braavos for... _For what? For YOU?_

His inner questions remained unanswered, for as he turned into the next alley, he saw her.

And he felt a punch, right to his heart. _Arya._

She was leaning her shoulder against a dirty wall, her gaze unfocused.

He approached her cautiously, afraid she might run away again, after his brother's rejection. _Imbecile brother! Will put him to sweep the floors for days on end._

He was only a few feet away when she finally noticed his presence.

Her hand was pressed against her belly. Her eyes, tired and dark ringed, seemed to water when she focused on his face.

"Jaqen," she whispered. Then her legs started to give way.

He rushed to catch her, wrapping his arms around her.

"It... hurts..."

He raised her raggedy shirt to look for wounds, but the only thing he could see was a large purplish spot on her skin. _Internal bleeding._

He must take her back to the House. And fast.

She had lost consciousness.

*

~ a ~ r ~ y ~ a ~

Westeros was an apocalypse of ice and fire.

Everyone was dying. Her sister, her brother, the dragon queen.

The dragons had burned each other to death, and Jon with them.

The world she once knew was no more.

Clegane was fighting beside her, screaming at her, _run, wolf bitch, run to your faceless assassins, they're our only hope._  And when he fell too, Nymeria grabbed her by her clothes and dragged her away, pushed her astride her furry back and ran, ran until Arya was safe on a ship to Essos and exhaustion took the direwolf too.

After what felt like an eternity, she was ready to see him again.

And she knew where to find him.

She shoved open the door of the poisons room, and behind the table and the pitchers and the dust, there he was. "Jaqen."

He raised his gaze and they stared at each other for a long moment. She could see pain in his eyes, longing, and all of a sudden she finally felt _home._

With slow steps, he moved to stand before the table.

And she rushed into his open arms.

She held him tight against her, relished his warmth. Forgot the horrors and the deaths.

She felt his hands moving, on her back, her neck. She tilted her head up and looked into his eyes as he framed her face with his hands.

"Lovely girl." A whisper, strangled, feverish, his gaze searching her face.

And his lips descended on hers.

Her hands snaked to his chest, _not enough._  Her tongue slid into his mouth, eagerly meeting his. His name, chanted in her mind like a prayer, _Jaqen, Jaqen, Jaqen..._  Her mouth craving him, groaning, until he pulled away, gasping for breath.

"My lovely, lovely girl." His voice was fond but hesitant.

"A girl is a woman and has been for a while." _But I've never been theirs._  "Just fuck me, Jaqen."

Their heavy breathing disrupted the eerie silence of the House. His eyes bore into her, and suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw his arm move, heard a loud crash, liquids spilling on the floor, shards of glass scattering all around.

And his hands went to her hips. _Yours, only yours._

He grabbed her, roughly, spun her around, sat her on the table. She couldn't string any coherent thoughts together as his frame pressed between her legs, his lips demanding, his hands exploring.

She tugged at his robe, needed his skin, _I need HIM,_  and light-headed she felt his hand in her breeches, his fingers in her wet heat.

And all she could think of was the ache she felt for him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and in the next breath he was inside her, buried so deep, _still not enough._

Later, she found herself lying under him, tenderly stroking his hair, his head resting on her chest as he lazily nibbled at her skin.

"I'm sorry I dropped into your life like this," she murmured. "Again."

"Oh, Arya..." Sighing, he lifted his head from her soft pillows and propped himself up on one elbow. "Everybody wants to die. Many acolytes fled the House, and the few brothers left need to work day and night."

They were lying on the floor in the poisons room. _Poison. Of course. What a horrible end._

"Some people go East, to the Dothraki Sea, but they will die nonetheless. There is no water, no food, and eventually the Dead will come." He traced his finger down between her breasts, his gaze following the movement. "Some even dare to sail west of Westeros. Searching for dragons."

To save what's left with fire. _They're our only hope._

"But perhaps we do not need to go that far, sweet girl, perhaps we already have the solution." He lowered his head and lovingly kissed her belly. "Here, in Braavos."

Only then did she notice the open chest sitting under the table. Inside, an oval-shaped object covered with pearlescent scales of an intense grey streaked with silver.

Suddenly, the floor under her back started to shake, and jugs and bottles clinked against each other on the shelves, until she heard the unmistakable sound of an egg cracking.

A deafening screech filled her ears and she woke up with a start, sweating and panting, in a bed that was not her own, in a sleeping cell in the House of Black and White.

It was all a dream.

*

~ j ~ a ~ q ~ e ~ n ~

Arya had been unconscious for days.

It was indeed internal bleeding. And she was not in good shape overall – she must have been beaten so much, must have suffered for so long, but thankfully not all the potions they kept at the House were meant to kill.

He was in the poisons room, concocting one more healing vial to bring her, when the door swung open. He raised his gaze and there she was. "Jaqen."

They stared at each other for a long moment. He could see uncertainty in her eyes, yearning, and all of a sudden he felt _alive_  again.

With slow steps, he moved towards her.

And she rushed into his open arms.

He cradled her small form against his chest, breathed her in. Forgot the time and the distance.

His hands moved, on her back, her neck. She tilted her head up and looked into his eyes as he framed her face with his hands.

"Lovely girl." A whisper, strangled, feverish, his gaze searching her face.

And his lips descended on hers.

He felt her hands snaking to his chest, _not enough._  Her tongue slid into his mouth, eagerly meeting his. Her name, chanted in his mind like a prayer, _Arya, Arya, Arya..._  Her mouth searing him, groaning, until he pulled away, gasping for breath.

"My lovely, lovely girl." His voice was fond but hesitant.

"I..." She clutched at his shoulders, her head tilting down. "I don't feel so good..."

"Arya!" His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her up. "A man was so selfish, a girl was not well for days and–"

"The nightmares... War's over, but... They won't leave me..."

Jaqen had lifted her in his arms and was already moving to the door. "Come."

He took her back to his sleeping cell.

Silently cursing himself for his foolishness, he helped her lie down on his bed and sat beside her. _You did nothing all those moons she lived at the House, and now that she is in need of a friend, you go and make her faint in your arms!_

"I'm sorry I dropped into your life like this," she murmured. "Again."

"No. A man is sorry. For..." _For letting my sister try to kill you._  "For everything."

"But I've been away for so long, and now I show up out of the blue and..."

She was running her hand on the sheets absent-mindedly, and only then did she seem to realise whose room they were in.

"You let me stay here all this time, _here,_ " she patted the bed. "This is your cell. This is your bed."

A hint of sadness crossed his face. "As a girl said, she has been away for so long that her old cell is no longer hers."

She curled on her side and hid her face in the pillow, mumbling some unintelligible words that he asked her to say again.

Her gaze lingered on the pillow, unfocused.

"I keep having these nightmares, _end-of-the-world_  nightmares, but I've also had this feeling these past few days, lying in this bed, and... I couldn't understand why I felt like that."

"Like what?" He reached out and lightly brushed the back of his hand against her cheek.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Like home."

Taken aback by her words, he couldn't do anything but stare into her eyes.

He wouldn't act foolishly again.

"Get some rest now." He made to stand up. "A man will–"

"Please don't go, Jaqen." She reached out and gently closed her fingers around his wrist. "Will you– Will you just hold me? Until I fall asleep?"

A sad smile flashed on his lips. _Oh, Arya, what kind of horrors do you have to witness in those nightmares?_

He lay down beside her and put his arm around her shoulder as she cuddled up to him, her hand meddling between her cheek and his chest.

He should have expected this – her wanting to be held, her needing to feel a presence, to feel warmth, after moons of cold and death and nothing.

"I love you, Jaqen."

This. _This_  he did not expect.

"I think I've loved you all along."

He held her closer. _Still not enough._

"Winterfell will always be home to me, but I just couldn't stay. My sister lives with Clegane now and... She's a queen too." The House got a raven right after the war ended, but he let her continue. "My brother– My cousin, as it turned out, left with the other queen. And the bitch queen, at last I killed that one, for fuck's sake!" They both laughed at that. "Oh, I feel I have so many things I would like to tell you."

"We have time, sweet girl." _Time you could merrily while away lying in my arms,_  he realised.

"I felt my duties there were done."

"So a girl came back to her old home."

"A girl came back to _you._ " She lifted her head to look at him, resting her hand right over his heart. "I can't promise to be No One. I know who I am. I wanted my revenge, but... While I was away, I found out that's not the only thing I wanted."

He knew now. Knew what was missing, knew what she took away with her when she left. "And a man found out his life had forsaken him while Arya Stark was away."

 _This girl_  was his life.

Her hand slid up around his neck and she buried her face in his chest, wrapping herself all over him with a deep sigh of contentment.

She was silent for a long while. He reached out for the crumpled blanket lying behind her and pulled it up, covering them both. He thought she had fallen asleep, until... "Mmm, why do you always smell so good?"

He chuckled. "After a nice bath, a girl will not sense any difference."

"Will you bathe with– Wait! Did you just say I smell bad?"

"Rest, now." He tightened his arms around her, a loving smile still curling his lips. "There will be baths and there will be anything my girl wants there to be."

She tilted her face up, a glint of delight in her eyes. "Like... a dragon egg? In a certain chest in the poisons room?"

Jaqen opened his mouth in shock. She closed it with a kiss, before settling against him once more.

"Will you be here when I wake up tomorrow?"

He kissed her hair softly. "Always."

**Author's Note:**

> To me, Arya is definitely the strongest woman of Westeros, but at that point I believe she was so emotionally drained that she rightfully needed to be held, like a certain blonde slayer in a certain bed scene that Spuffy shippers have certainly recognised (Buffy 7x20)
> 
> And yes, it's Nickelback's Far Away, because Firefighter!Arya x Wifey!Jaqen would make the perfect end-of-the-world AU :D


End file.
